


The Taste of Cream Puffs

by levyovochka



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Basically me projecting myself onto Mattsun, Cussing, Cute Hanamaki, Fluff, M/M, implied kissing, matsukawa is Whipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levyovochka/pseuds/levyovochka
Summary: “You look like a drowned rat.”“Meow.”“I said rat, dumbass.”
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Comments: 5
Kudos: 103
Collections: Seijoh Week 2020





	The Taste of Cream Puffs

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from #SeijohWeek2020 day 2: Sleepover

When Matsukawa opened his front door in the middle of a rainstorm that day, he most definitely hadn’t expected to see a soaked from head-to-toe Hanamaki Takahiro.

Well, at least not after _only_ three hours of not seeing him.

(Not that he was complaining, Matsukawa mused, he’d love to see the boy in every passing second of his life if he was allowed to).

Hanamaki was still wearing his pristine-white volleyball jersey, and judging by the way his teeth clattered noisily—and how his body was shaking like a leaf in his jacket—it was safe to assume that he was drenched even down to his underwear.

“You look like a drowned rat,” Matsukawa deadpanned. He watched unamused as Hanamaki harshly ruffled his short cropped hair, sending rain water all over Matsukawa’s front porch like the cute big dog his neighbor once had.

Hanamaki looked up at him and tilted his head to the side. “ _Meow_?” he _purred_. His voice sounding so sweet and tiny and his wet lashes fluttered ‘innocently’ and, and—

Fuck.

It should be infuriating, the way Hanamaki definitely did it just to spite him, but Matsukawa could feel his stomach fluttered regardless, the corner of his lips twitching in a small smile—foolishly endeared.

(He resolutely refused to admit that it was cute, though).

“I said rat, _dumbass_.” He grinned. And despite Hanamaki coming into his doorstep totally uninvited, Matsukawa still stepped aside from the door anyway, letting the pink-haired boy in all his drenched glory into his house (he‘d say into his heart too, but Hanamaki was already living there rent free anyway).

As expected, Matsukawa’s mother started fussing at the pink-haired boy right after she saw him, and the little shit acted all pitiful just because he knew he can; soaking up all the attention Matsukawa’s mother is showering him like a wet sponge. Because that’s what he is: wet.

“Maki,” Matsukawa called, his heart clenching painfully when the aforementioned boy perked up at him. “Go to the bathroom already. You’re wetting the floor.”

Hanamaki then proceeded to pout at him like a five year old, only agreeing to go to the bathroom and take a quick shower when Matsukawa’s mom promised him some cream puffs as a dessert.

“I love your mom,” Hanamaki declared on his way to the bathroom, which Matsukawa almost replied with a painful ‘ _I_ _love you too_ ’.

(Yeah, he knew he’s an idiot, alright?)

“Alright,” Matsukawa started. Hanamaki had finished showering (and now he smelled like Matsukawa’s shampoo, fuck!) and they‘d also finished eating dinner with Matsukawa’s mom; it had been lively, like any other times that Hanamaki comes over to his house and Matsukawa is _thriving_.

(Although sometimes he did wonder if his mom likes Hanamaki better than she does him, but well, it doesn’t matter since Matsukawa likes Hanamaki the best anyway).

After that, they sat on the living room couch—minus Matsukawa’s mom—eating the promised desserts Hanamaki had obviously been waiting for. The TV was on, but clearly Hanamaki was the only one watching. “Why are you even here anyway?”

And when Matsukawa said ‘ _they_ ’, he meant only Hanamaki. Because, well... Matsukawa didn’t even like the pastry that much and—

(“ _I’m already full_ ,” he had said to his mom when she offered him the desserts, “just by seeing Hanamaki eats,” he obviously didn’t say.)

True to his words, Matsukawa kept watching as Hanamaki basically guzzled down his beloved cream puffs. And after a beat too long, Hanamaki—with his mouth still full of cream puffs—finally made a garbled noise as some kind of delayed response to Matsukawa’s earlier question.

Unfortunately, Matsukawa was still busy looking at Hanamaki that he didn’t catch any of his words. And then as if in a trance, Matsukawa swiped a thumb along Hanamaki’s lower lips, _gently_ , catching some stray crumbs and almost, _almost_ pushing said finger into his friend’s mouth.

Hanamaki’s lips had felt so soft, which Matsukawa thought is kind of surprising for a boy; pale pink, and plump in all the right places. Matsukawa wondered if they’d feel as pillowy when he bites into them.

(He’d love to taste them someday.)

“Matsu?”

Matsukawa blinked, propelled back into the harsh reality, then proceeded to rub his thumb and forefinger together in a sad attempt to get rid of the crumbs and hopefully: his mortification.

Hanamaki was staring at him by the time he got his composure back, his usually sleepy eyes suddenly looking so round and big as he looked up at Matsukawa beside him. _That_ , with his cheeks still full of cream puffs, reminded Matsukawa of a chipmunk. A lethally-adorable one.

“So?” Matsukawa tried to inquire again. He suppressed the urge to run his fingertips along Hanamaki’s rosy cheeks: the color looking so good against his pale skin Matsukawa wondered how it would feel to kiss them.

“Huh?”

Matsukawa blinked. _Fuck_. He hoped he hadn’t said that out loud.

“Oh!” Hanamaki suddenly exclaimed. “I said, Y’know I was doing some homework at Iwaizumi’s house, right? But it suddenly rained so hard on my way home, so I thought, ‘why not sleepover at Matsu’s house instead? It’s closer after all’. So here I am! Hanamaki Takahiro at your service!” Hanamaki said it all in one breath, finishing his little speech with a wide grin and a puffed up chest and—

 _Oh_ , okay. Matsukawa let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. _Okay_ , he thought, _he’s safe then_. There was no way Hanamaki would know about all his shameful desire, anyway. Matsukawa was always careful about it. After all, he never touched Hanamaki in any over-friendly manners, never spoke to him too softly like he holds the boy dear, never looked at him like Hanamaki is his entire world—

(He lied. Matsukawa had most definitely _did_ all that and he might or might not be regretting it now.)

“Why Iwaizumi though?” he asked. And he might have sounded a bit too bitter, but in his defense, Matsukawa was just curious and definitely not jealous at all. He managed to bite down the ‘why not me?’ part after all.

“Because he’s in advanced class, duh. Oikawa is too but he’s gonna end up talking about volleyball instead, so no.” Hanamaki muttered in between large bites. He glanced at Matsukawa when he finally finished eating, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. And then, in a shy voice that didn’t sound like the Hanamaki Matsukawa always knows, he softly breathed, “You can, by the way.”

Stupidly, Matsukawa only responded with an offhanded hum, eyes still never leaving Hanamaki who looked like he was swimming in Matsukawa’s borrowed hoodie. It was such a sight, really. They’re almost the same size, but Matsukawa is still bigger and he likes his hoodies loose, so in the instances that Hanamaki wears them (Matsukawa loves those moments), it looks like he’s basically drowning in them. He’d look so soft and snuggly and it made Matsukawa ache to hug him and maybe put him in his po—

“ _Issei_.”

Matsukawa sputtered, caught off guard when Hanamaki actually called him by his first name. “Y- _yeah_?” He croaked pitifully. “Ahem. What is it?“

“I said you _can_ ,” Hanamaki repeated impatiently. He’s got his thin eyebrows furrowed in a serious manner, and Matsukawa could only think of gently smoothing them and maybe kiss— “Kiss my cheeks, I mean.”

Matsukawa stared. He stared and stared at Hanamaki and still couldn’t comprehend any of the words his friend just said. Hanamaki was also staring hard at him, before he started curling in on himself when Matsukawa hadn’t responded after a while. Matsukawa wanted to reach out to him, but he didn’t know what to say or do. His body had went rigid and it was like his brain had been frozen and—

“And maybe my lips too...?“

 _Fuck_. The tone Hanamaki used when he said that was so hopeful and uncharacteristically shy that Matsukawa could die right then and he wouldn’t regret a thing.

“But not here...” Hanamaki whispered as he looked around, cheeks getting redder and redder as the minutes passed by. “ _Hey, Issei_.” He tugged at Matsukawa’s sleeve. “Can we go to your room already?”

That day, in the quiet night after the storm, inside the safe space of his bedroom and his soft blanket—legs tangled together, Matsukawa learned that he actually likes the taste of cream puffs.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter  
> Let’s talk about matsuhana and bokuaka *cries*


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